


The Host

by glasgowgirl92



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 23:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasgowgirl92/pseuds/glasgowgirl92
Summary: A re-imagining of "The Host". Beverly deals with the reality of falling in love with a symbiont and its 3 hosts, one of whom is her best friend's lover.Told from the perspectives of Beverly and Deanna.





	The Host

**Author's Note:**

> This episode has so many interesting ethical points and character dynamics which would have taken way longer than a 45-minute episode to flesh out, so I was left feeling like there must have been a lot of "missing scenes" left up to the viewer's imagination. This is my interpretation of the detail behind the action, with a slightly revised ending. 
> 
> I based Trill physiology on the lore that exists in "The Host", not on how the the species was further fleshed-out and developed in DS9, which is why Riker and Kareel have no knowledge or memories of their experiences as hosts. 
> 
> I was interested in how Will's hosting of Odan would have affected Beverly and Deanna's relationship- a dynamic which isn't explored in much detail in the original episode. The Trill's use of hosts is far more morally ambiguous in "The Host" than in DS9, which for me would have been a better justification of Beverly's decision to leave Odan. I also wanted to give Beverly and Kareel/Odan the moment they deserved!

“Doctor, could a human host carry him?"

Beverly had known it since the call came through on her communicator; since Odan had taken her hand, half-dead already in Sickbay, imploring her with eyes she didn't recognise now. Of course it would be Will. 

"I believe so." The words felt slow and heavy- had she hesitated? She couldn't tell. "From Odan's description of the process it should be possible. But I don't have-" 

"Then I volunteer."

She closed her eyes, thinking of Odan, pierced through the abdomen with a great red emptiness, his face still and cold. And the creature- the thing- crucified with wires in a stasis pod.

"There's been no precedent for a human host," she replied, forcing the tremble from her voice. "I couldn't guarantee what might happen."

"The risk is too great, Commander," Jean-Luc cut in, but Will's face was set, his tone determined.

"Weigh it against the prospect of war."

Jean-Luc sighed. 

"It's your choice, Will.”

But it wasn’t a choice, not for Will Riker. She had known since this same idea had come to her, some hours before. Odan- whatever he was- could survive only within a body. One of theirs. Of course it would be Will. 

"Let's get to it." 

*

“I told you we’d be together tonight.”

Odan turned with a delighted shock of laughter.

“Doctor Beverly! Come to see me off?” 

That damn smile. She slipped into Odan’s quarters with a last furtive glance along the empty corridor, her heart racing.

“I heard you have around six hours to kill,” she replied, slipping off her lab coat as he rose from the desk to meet her, pulling her close.

“And you thought you could assist me?” He took her hand, pressing his lips gently to the inside of her wrist. She felt her breath quicken, the low tug of desire inside her.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re… fighting fit for your journey-” her trembling hands made quick work of the fastenings on his shirt, while he found the hidden zips in her uniform with a now-practiced ease. She couldn’t help but moan as he pressed himself against her: the incredible heat of his bare skin, lips pressing soft into her collarbone.

“Then I’ll endeavour to be a model patient…”

He crowded her against the desk, kissing steadily downward. Her back arched as his teeth grazed gently against her nipple, enough to send want pulsing through to her core.

“Odan…” She carded her fingers through his hair, savouring the hot shiver against her skin as he pressed his lips to her breastbone, her belly, the top of her thigh. Looking up at her mischievously, he sucked a stinging love-bite into the crease of her hip. She yelped, tugging his hair with a breath of laughter.

“If this is how you treated your last physician-“ she trailed off, looking down at him, at his head tipped back against her hand. The long, bare line of his throat as he knelt between her legs- the look of naked reverence in his eyes.

“Only you, Beverly. Only you.”

She felt his words against her, the gentle hum of his voice, before he kissed her open. For minutes or hours she slipped into the rhythm of his tongue, the delicious fluttering pressure that seemed to crest and ebb and return. When he slid his fingers inside her she cried out, sharp and wanting, at once transfixed between too much and not enough.

“Odan, I need-“

He groaned in response, driving into her over and again, until she felt she would die without all of him inside her, right now.

She almost sobbed at the sudden emptiness as he pulled back, then swept her into his arms, guiding her legs around him. He carried her through to the next room, laying her down on the bed. She could taste herself on him as he kissed her, the animal scent of desire. He was hard against her, ready- she guided him into her slowly, savouring the fullness of him, the throb of his pulse inside her. He made a broken noise, low in his throat.

When he began to move she arched up, rocking her hips against him. The feeling was everything now, her body working in time to the tide that pulled them.

“Beverly-“

Every movement brought her closer, every breath on her skin and beat of her heart. Odan trembled above her, sinews straining, and she chased the wave inside her as it pulled back, back, until it was on her, bursting, shimmering through every pore.

Through a stunned haze she felt Odan’s weight as he shivered and lay still across her. Slowly her breath came back, and she began to sense the air chill on her damp skin, a slight roughness in her throat. Had she been crying out? She couldn’t remember now. She ran her hand lazily along Odan’s back.

“I think I’m definitely going to prescribe… regular check-ups…”

He gave a long, satisfied sigh.

“I’ll make sure to be back in time for the next one.”

She smiled, turning her face into the crook of his neck. As they lay in one another’s arms, she wondered when they’d next be together like this.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” she whispered, feeling his fingers curl idly in her hair. He smiled.

“Of course.”

*

_Imzadi_

There was no answer. She felt the voice of her mind echo through empty decks, out into the stars.

"May I join you?"

Beverly's emotions rushed to meet her: a sick hot-and-cold clamouring, even as she avoided Deanna's gaze.

"You know, Deanna, the first man I ever loved unconditionally was named Stefan.” Beverly’s knuckles were squeezed white around a glass of syntehol. 

“He was a soccer player, and I would watch him as he would race down the field and I thought my heart would stop because he was so beautiful. We married and had three children. Twin boys, Andrew and Alexander, and then later a little girl, Jennifer. Stefan became an artist, very famous. He created huge, breath-taking metal sculptures. He came to adore me as much as I worshipped him-"

Beverly looked at her, finally. "In my daydreams at least. Stefan was eleven and I was eight. He never even knew I existed."

Deanna felt a pull of affection, its moth-wing softness between them. Beverly, who never _ever_ cheated at poker, even with Data; who could cajole Geordi LaForge to take a starring role in her plays; who'd told her in the strictest confidence about her passion for tap dancing during a drunken trip to Ten-Forward. She tried to close herself against it, this singing wire of tension- this Riker, this Odan. Beverly knocked back her drink.

"Oh, Deanna, I loved Odan. I'm sure of it. I had no doubts, no fears, but what it was I loved? His eyes? His hands? His mouth? They're gone. If that was all it was, I should mourn him and go on." 

_Imzadi-_ she remembered his look, touching her everywhere even as they stood apart, saying their goodbyes by the Potemkin. She had felt him that night above her, a star on the horizon, all around her as she stood alone at the Janaran Falls. Nothing. She felt nothing, now. 

"But it was more than that. I felt completely free with him. Unguarded. At ease with myself. There were so many things that made him special to me. Where are they? Are they still here, alive in- in _Will Riker?_ I look at Will and I see someone I've known for years. A kind of brother."

Deanna felt the question. She felt Beverly hating herself for it. 

"What do your feelings tell you?" she asked in return. It took everything to keep her voice steady.

"I feel his pull. It's very powerful." Yes- a constant churn of love and guilt and longing. "I wish he'd never come on this ship."

Deanna's human side felt a twist of unkind satisfaction, even as her eyes stung with Beverly's tears.

"Don't wish that, Beverly. You can't be open to love if you don't risk pain." 

"I don't care,” Beverly replied. “I'd give anything not to feel the way I do now." 

And suddenly there he was, standing lost by the bar, wearing Odan's clothes with an awkwardness so totally unlike Will. The shock of seeing and not feeling, of meeting eyes that were not his. Beverly must have been watching her face. 

"He's here, isn't he?"

_Imzadi_. Nothing. Nothing.

"Look at him." 

"I don't want to look at him." Beverly's panic seemed to hum inside her, a trapped insect breaking itself against glass. "Talk to me. Just keep talking to me."

He was looking at Beverly; at the back of her turned head. His love was like a flame in the dark, clear and bright and dancing. She felt ice lit from within. His mouth seemed softer. The lines around his eyes took paths she hadn't seen before. It was Odan, wearing this body. Deanna took a deep, steadying breath. 

"The first man I ever loved was my father." The memory came to her as it always did, in the warm scent of Katarian emerald grass on summer evenings; the dusty paper rustling of ancient Earth storybooks.

"He was strong and tall. He carried me when the ground was muddy. He chased away the monsters that hid under my bed at night. And he sang to me, and kept me safe. And he went away." She breathed again, long and slow- the catch in her throat faded. "What I wouldn't give to hear those songs again. To feel his arms protect me. I never will, but I can still feel his warmth and his love as though he were here with me. If you can feel those things from the man we know as Will Riker, accept them. Accept the love."

_Imzadi, where are you?_

For one bright, dizzying moment, she thought she could feel Will- a symphony that rose and fell but never wavered; a drink that went straight to her head. The memory of his love filled her: bare skin against a silk dress; a missed step dancing in a smoky bar. Then Beverly turned, and there was nothing but the touch of ice to a flame.

*

_"Doctor Beverly, I would never hurt you."_

_But you have already- can't you see that?_

He'd reminded her of Jack when they were young: the same dark eyes, perhaps something in the soft lines of his mouth. With him, she seemed to be transported back to a younger self: unafraid of the future, for the first time since Jean-Luc had brought Jack's body home; since she'd watched Wesley turn his face to the stars before he could walk. He'd told her almost nothing of life on Trill. She hadn't asked. She knew the lithe, spare lines of his body; the scent of his skin, like warm sand on an unknown world. In ten days, was it possible to know more? 

"Come in."

The door slid open. She stepped inside before she could change her mind. Will- _Odan-_ stood to greet her.

"I thought I should see how you were doing- if you needed another hypospray?"

He came so close to her, without thought or hesitation. She'd rarely been this close to Will. The heat of his body against hers- the scent of the aftershave Deanna bought him every year for his birthday. Her stomach twisted.

"I don't think so. The symptoms haven't returned."

"Oh. Well, that's good."

"Yes."

Will held himself like a soldier, compelling the world to move around him. He wore his confidence like the pips on his collar. This person watched her with Odan's glacial stillness. 

"Tomorrow's an important day," she blurted awkwardly, just for something to say- "do you feel ready for it?"

"I'll be fine."

His voice was Will's but softer, lighter. She could hear him in there, as if they were speaking through glass, through ice.

"I'll check your vital signs in the morning before the representatives get here-" she began, but he shook his head.

"I don't want them knowing I'm taking any medication."

That could have been any man, she though with a wry smile: stubborn, unable to admit weakness. 

"Maybe you could schedule a series of breaks."

"That's good."

"Yes."

For the first time, she dared to look up, into his eyes- _his_ eyes. Will’s were blue- had she really never noticed? - Yet there was nothing of his brash forcefulness in that look. It was Odan who watched her, in that calm, measured way she’d mistaken for coldness when they first met.

_Do you know, when I first met the formidable Doctor Beverly, I thought to myself, this woman is ice through to her bones._

How wrong they’d been, both of them.

“Beverly,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I want you. If you’re going to leave, you’d better go right now.”

His hands on her waist already, larger and broader than Odan’s- still, the longing for his touch made her head spin.

“I’m not leaving,” she whispered. His kiss was broken, desperate, crushing the breath from her. 

“Lights-”

She pulled him towards the bedroom, stumbling against furniture in the sudden darkness. He pressed up against her back, steadying her- she felt his hardness and leaned back into him instinctively. The shock of want that made her gasp as one hand slipped under her uniform, caressing her breast. Closing her eyes, she raised her hands to run them through his hair- his short hair.

She twisted in his grasp and pushed him down onto the bed, pulling off her uniform as he shrugged out of his dressing-gown. He reached out and took her by the wrist, pulling her down as if to get on top of her, but she wrested her hand from his grip. She had loved the feeling of him on her, around her, as if there were nothing in the world but him and this moment- she couldn’t bring herself to be so vulnerable now.

They’d never made love in this way before, without laughter or words, only their breath filling the silence. He leaned back against the headboard, one hand raking through her hair as she lowered herself into his lap, wincing slightly at the too-tight stretch of him inside her.

“We don’t have to go so fast-”

She kissed the words out of him, willing herself to breathe slowly, to relax. She was trembling everywhere, alight with nervous energy. His hands smoothed down her neck, over her breasts, grasping her hips to control the rhythm. His palms were rough and broad, not the quick, slender touch she’d come to expect. She focused of the feel of herself around him, the pounding of her heart against his skin. Slowly but surely the dizzying ache of her desire returned and she felt herself relaxing, opening, reaching for him as she moved.

Pleasure seemed to flare deep in her belly only to fade- she could sense the crest of the wave, infuriatingly close yet always somehow pulling back from her. She rolled her hips, grinding into him, chasing the feeling with every movement. It was there, there- he groaned, his hot breath against her neck, and the heat shivered inside her. She guided his hand down between her legs, and the throb of his touch circling brought her so close, tears of frustration burned behind her eyes.

“Odan…”

She looked away from him, inside her memory, picturing the strong, spare lines of his back; the beautiful curve of his neck as he’d knelt at her feet, kissing down the length of her thigh. She felt the pulse of her desire quicken, and in her mind it was Odan’s lips that met hers: those smile-lines that appeared like a secret between them whenever he looked at her. She gasped at the sudden rightness of it, the crest of pleasure that filled her from head to toe- she imagined him looking up at her with naked lust, his lips open and trembling, and finally, finally it was upon her, inside every part of her, a swooping burst of ecstasy that gripped her and wouldn’t let go.

She cried out, and heard a voice mixed with her own- his, but not his. Looking up, she caught a glance of herself in the window: a transparent reflection against the stars. A few days ago, she hadn’t even known the man still lying beneath her, inside her- now she barely recognised the woman staring back at her. A cold shiver passed over her sweat-damp skin.

*

The strange constellations of Peliar lit the room, casting his face in blue and white. His hand smoothed absently along her thigh, back and forth, in tune with the ship's deep, constant rhythm.

"How do you feel?" she whispered. He stretched luxuriously, pulling her across him. Despite herself, she sighed into the warm weight of his arms.

"Wonderful."

"I mean, how does... this body feel."

"No worse than before. You'll have to try harder if you mean to tire me out, Doctor Beverly."

She gave a soft breath of laughter. He swept her hair from her forehead, weaving it through his fingers as he'd done that first time, alone in sickbay when he'd come in with the ridiculous ruse of a "headache." The genetic mutation for red hair didn't exist on Trill, he'd said. 

"Imzadi," he breathed, pressing his lips to her temple. She stiffened in his arms, heart clenching. 

"What did you say?" She craned her neck to look at him, then sat up awkwardly, pushing him away. He opened his eyes with a bewildered look, and she felt a sudden urge to pull the blanket up around herself- between them. 

"I- I don't know. It just came to me." He pushed himself up on his elbows. "Why? What is it?"

A prickling sensation spread up the back of her neck; she hugged her knees against her chest.

"_Beloved-_" her stomach dropped, the word sticking in her throat. "It means _beloved_."

He simply laughed, dropping back against the pillows.

"Oh- well, what's wrong with that? You know I love you-" he reached out to touch her, to pull the sheet away. She took his wrist.

"Odan, where is Will?"

He gave her a wounded look.

"Will Riker is still here." Gently he took his arm from her grip, folding his hands across his chest. "He is... dormant, while I occupy this form. I am not hurting him- though I will harm this body if I stay much longer."

Beverly could feel her pulse beating in her throat. The blanket was intolerably hot around her, but she couldn't let it fall.

"Could he- see us?"

"No!" He flinched at himself, at his own raised voice. "I'm sorry. No. Doctor Beverly, I wouldn't have asked you to do that. I know he is your friend."

Tears welled in her eyes; she scrubbed them away impatiently.

"I don't know how to do this."

Silence stretched for a long moment, the distant moons of Peliar Zel wheeling above them. He laid his hand on the bed, palm up- close to her but not touching.

"It is... harder... being in a human form. Or perhaps I'm simply not used to it." He watched her with sorrowful eyes. "You feel things very deeply. In every part of you."

Slowly, hesitantly, she traced her fingers along his. 

*

The rush of it brought tears to Deanna’s eyes: for a moment she was filled with the softness of the pillow against the back of his neck, the feverish ache in his joints, the tight swoop of confusion as he came to his senses.

"What-"

"You're in your quarters. I thought, after where you've been, you would appreciate waking up in your own bed."

Will looked up at her- _Will_ looked at her. She felt silk on her skin and smoke in her hair. He reached up to take her hand, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Deanna, did something go wrong? You look…"

She sat beside him, lacing his fingers with her own. 

"I'm just glad to have you back. I thought-" the tears burst through her best counsellor's smile, shaking her through and through. She tried to turn away, but he pulled her down beside him, wrapping her in his arms. 

"Imzadi..."

She plunged into to the solid, steady presence of him all around her: the dizzy rush of the Janaran Falls at sunset. 

"You were nothing," she sobbed, "you were nowhere-"

"I'm here now-" Will kissed her fiercely, his breath hot against the crook of her neck. "Imzadi, I'm here."

She clung to him, dizzy with the shock of passion, the raw sincerity of his feeling: so different to their occasional snatches of shore leave together. This flood of emotion almost frightened her as much as it exhilarated.

Will tangled his legs with hers, and as he buried his hands in her hair, Deanna felt her heart bursting with the feel of his lips on her cheek when they’d first met on Betazed; the look on his face the first time he’d managed to hear her thoughts. She gasped at the sudden pull of want inside her, at the perfect reflection of her feelings in him. Without thinking, she found her hands riding up under his nightshirt, surrounded by the need for her skin on his. Will pulled impatiently at her uniform, tracing a line of kisses along her exposed collarbone. She felt herself shiver, molten inside, as he bit down gently on her nipple.

“Will…” she moaned, grinding against his hardness. With a rough sound in the back of his throat he scooped her up with one arm, tossing her down on her back. The breath was knocked from her in a short huff of laughter, watching him struggle to pull her jumpsuit down over her legs. Then he was on her, and she couldn’t laugh, couldn’t think, could only feel the coarse heat of his mouth on hers, the slide of his tongue, the animal scent of his desire. She became a thing that felt, that wanted- every heartbeat seemed to strengthen the ache for him inside her.

“Get these off-“ she fumbled at him, and it was his turn to laugh as she almost pushed him off the bed in her haste to remove the rest of his nightclothes. That impish smile soon faltered as she straddled him, running her hands down the strong, broad lines of his chest.

_Can you hear me?_

She knew from the way his hips twitched upwards that he had. Still, she stared deep into his eyes, waiting.

_Yes._

The feel of his mind inside hers shot straight to her core: a deep pulse of satisfaction. She moaned softly, but kept her eyes resolutely open, fixed on his.

_Can you see this?_

It was a jumble of images: some memories, some merely imagination. The feel of his fingers curling inside her, the drag of her nails down his back. She saw his pupils blow wide to almost-blackness, felt his grip tighten on her hips.

_Can you feel it?_

His breath was ragged- she rolled forward, feeling the weight of him against her lips, the slickness.

_Always. Imzadi, always._

Her thighs trembled, and there was something delicious in the tension between them. He was transfixed beneath her, his face an open book of love and longing and lust. She moaned again, louder, shuddering with her breath. The taste of him on her lips; the falls against her naked skin; the feeling of every time she’d whispered his name. The litany of images flickered between them as she raised her hips and took him slowly inside her, inch by inch.

“Imzadi…”

She leaned forward, breathing the word from his mouth as she kissed him, rocking her hips to an increasing rhythm. She could feel the heavy tightness of his need.

“Please-”

She slowed above him for a moment. The look in his eyes was so vulnerable, she felt as though he’d reached out and cut her in the heart.

_I’m here_, she replied, covering his body with hers, letting him crush her to his chest. _I’m here now, too._

His hips bucked upwards, the sudden sharp edge of his desire reflecting in her, dazzling like a thousand points of light. His kiss was heady as smoke, his touch like silk on her skin. As she increased the tempo of her movements he met her at every turn, guiding her hips against him, faster now, drawing cries from her like a song. She felt the crescendo gather inside her, the dizzy pounding beat of want, until suddenly it overtook them both and she was there, with him, overflowing with the rightness of it.

She let herself collapse across him, his heart beating fast inside her head.

_Beloved,_ she spoke into him. _My beloved._

*

She must have slept for a while. When she woke, the moons had moved outside the cabin window, and Will was just pinning his communicator to his uniform. He looked at her through his reflection in the bathroom mirror and smiled.

“I’m needed on the bridge.”

She’d known it was coming- truly, she had. Knowing didn’t stop the pang of emptiness that followed.

“Beverly won’t be pleased with you breaking the terms of your bed-rest,” she replied, drawing the blanket around her shoulders as she sat up.

“I think those terms are well and truly broken, thanks to you-“ he strode into the bedroom, his mind already on the debrief with Captain Picard. He stopped for a moment to brush a kiss against her hair. “Stay as long as you like.”

Perhaps it had been different to all those stolen nights on Betazed and Risa- perhaps not. And if it had been- if he’d knelt at her feet and told her he was ready to stop pretending- what then? Wanting has no consequences, no obligations. She smiled at him softly, watching his back as he turned for the door.

“Oh, wait-“ she remembered herself just in time. “About Beverly- there’s something she wanted you to know.”

*

"The operation to implant Odan into the new host was completed at nineteen hundred hours and appears to have been successful. There were no difficulties in assimilation." Beverly closed her ship's log as the door to her quarters chimed softly. "Come in."

"Doctor Beverly, could we talk for a moment?"

She was tall- striking- in her beauty as much as her physical similarity to the Odan she'd known. Maybe the Trill's facial crests made them all look similar to her. Beverly felt her heartbeat quicken.

"You should be sleeping. You need to rest."

"I've never felt better- except once or twice." 

It was so like him, so achingly familiar, she couldn't help but smile. Kareel came close to her, leaning against the edge of the desk. Her fair hair swept across one side of her face as she looked down. She smelled like sunlight, Beverly thought. Sunlight on sand. 

"My poor Beverly- this has been so hard for you. I want to thank you for your caring, for your standing by me."

"I congratulate you." She swallowed, her mouth dry. Kareel's long, slim thigh brushed just barely against her arm. "You averted a war that would have cost many lives."

"Yes. It seems everything has worked out for the best." Kareel reached down, tracing her thumb across Beverly's cheek. "And yes, I am still Odan, and I still love you. I cannot imagine that ever changing."

Beverly closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into the touch that now traced across her lower lip.

"I am glad you're alright," she breathed, turning her face away. Kareel's hand lowered, empty, to the desk.

"Is there to be nothing more?" Her voice was tight and trembling. Beverly blinked through a haze of tears, willing herself to say nothing, to sit still.

After a long moment Kareel sighed, moving as if to stand.

“What was he like?" She blurted suddenly, despite herself- "The man I knew as Odan.” 

When she turned to look, Kareel- no, Odan- was sitting again beside her, but looking beyond her, over the northern pole of Peliar Zel. 

“I barely knew him.”

The words felt like a hammer-blow to her chest. She shook her head.

“And Kareel? She’s so young-“

“We are a conjoined species, Beverly," Odan interrupted her. "We have evolved to live this way. I can’t change what I am just because it displeases you.”

"That's not fair," she whispered. Odan sighed.

“I understand why this is… difficult for you. Trill symbiotes do not have a sex as you understand it. But Trill hosts can be male or female- or both, or neither. Similar to humans, I believe.”

Needled at the condescension in her voice, Beverly stood and faced her.

"Do you really believe I'm refusing to love you just because of this body? That you being female is the reason I can't do this?" She laughed bitterly. "Human physiology is publicly available in all Federation databases- you knew exactly what I was when we met. And you knew just how ignorant we were of Trill. The Federation respects your right to privacy and then you use it to lie to me."

“I didn’t-“ Odan stopped herself, then took deep breath. "I planned to tell you," she whispered finally, "but then the accident- Beverly,” She took her hand. “My love for you is not a lie. You must believe that."

Beverly couldn’t help but reach out, as if to wipe Odan’s tears before they fell.

“I'm sorry,” she sighed. “I didn't mean- I know you weren't trying to deceive me. I suppose it never occured to me to explain, either." She wondered where to begin.

"To be human is... to experience emotion through physical form. When I’m angry, my body becomes flooded with stress hormones: my heart-rate increases, my muscles become tense- my cerebral cortex goes dormant, limiting my ability to judge situations logically. The state of my body- whether it’s warm and comfortable or injured, or sick, or freezing- can have a profound effect on my personality. And when I’m in love-“she squeezed Odan’s hand- “I express that emotion physically. My love for you was more than physical, of course it was… but I understood it through the body I knew as Odan."

Odan turned Beverly’s hand over in her own, tracing the lines of her palm. Those gentle, slender hands.

"Can you not... learn to understand in a new way?"

Beverly’s heart fluttered, but the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach remained.

"For how long, Odan?” she replied, shaking her head. “How long will you have this host? Who would the next one be? I can't live with that kind of uncertainty."

The look in Odan’s eyes was enough to break her heart- under all that pain, she still looked at her as if she were all the stars in the sky.

“I will respect your wishes, Doctor Beverly. And I… will try to understand.”

Slowly, cautiously, Beverly slid her fingers along Odan’s wrist.

“May we at least- say goodbye?” she asked, her heart in her throat. Odan smilled, pulling Beverly gently towards her.

“I hoped we might.”

Her kiss was tender, almost hesitant- far softer than the crush of Will’s lips against her own. Beverly slipped her arm around Odan’s waist, feeling the swell of her breathing, tasting the soft noise of pleasure as their breasts touched.

“How long has it been since you were a woman?” Beverly asked, her fingers trembling as she squeezed Odan’s thigh.

“Many… many years…” Odan gasped, trailing off as Beverly nipped at her earlobe. “A lifetime. And you?” Odan looked up at her, face flushed- “I do not think this can be your first-“

Beverly interrupted her with a kiss, then tugged her top over her head.

“I was young once- but then I met Jack-“

Now it was Odan’s turn to stop her mouth. Beverly melted into the slow, insistent tide of Odan’s body pressing against hers, shrugging off her uniform to feel the impossible softness of her skin. She kissed the hollow at the base of Odan’s throat, then down, massaging one breast as she kissed a torturously gentle trail around the other’s curving weight. Odan was panting above her when she finally flicked her tongue over the nipple, sucking it gently into her mouth, rewarded by a low moan that sent a wanton pulse of blood to her core. She sank to her knees, leaving Odan leaning back against the desk, her legs spread open- the scent of her, ripe and sweet and dizzying.

Beverly bit gently into the soft flesh of Odan’s inner thigh, grinning at the desperate little whine she heard from above her. Feeling the gentle tug of Odan’s fingers in her hair, she looked up to see Odan watching her, flushed and breathless and beautiful, so beautiful. She remembered looking down at him only a few days ago, here at this very desk, his head tipped back as if in supplication.

“We’ve been here before,” she whispered, watching Odan’s eyes flicker closed at the heat of her breath.

For a moment she felt a mad grip of panic, watching in her mind’s eye as Odan left forever on the Trill ship, and she went back to- what? To her lab, her colleagues- to occasional candle-lit dinners with Jean-Luc; lonely evenings with a glass of wine and the latest of Wesley’s infrequent letters. She couldn’t give this up, this love unlike any other. She wouldn’t. Digging her fingers into Odan’s trembling thigh, she tasted her with a long, slow glide of her tongue.

Odan arched above her with a wordless moan. Beverly felt herself shiver in response, the rich, animal scent of desire seeming to fill her as she kissed and gently sucked, drawing little circles with her tongue. She felt Odan’s fingertips drag against her scalp; the soft hum of her own noises of pleasure against Odan’s skin. She ached inside, imagining Odan’s clever mouth against her, just like this. Odan’s hips ground forward, her hand tightening in Beverly’s hair, rolling up against the desk in time to the rhythm of Beverly’s tongue. The groans were louder now, more urgent, Odan’s head tipped back and the cascade of her golden hair, and Beverly fought to keep her breath steady as she worked faster, faster-

Odan cried out above her, trembling in Beverly’s grasp. Beverly kissed her through it, flicking her tongue one last time on the over-sensitive flesh, just to hear her yelp.

“Come here-“ Odan tugged her hair playfully, lounging across the desk as Beverly stood and took her in her arms. “I think you like this body, Doctor Beverly…”

“Well, I’m only human-” Beverly tugged her towards the bedroom, laughing as Odan tackled her onto the bed.

“Then allow me to show you-“ Odan nipped at her lower lip- “that the feeling is mutual.”

She deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue against Beverly’s, savouring the taste of herself as her hand traced down Beverly’s body. Beverly moaned into the sensation of Odan’s hand between her legs: her thumb circling, her fingers sliding gently inside. Smiling against her mouth, Odan curled her fingers just so, pressing upwards, and Beverly felt her wanting sharpen to a keen edge. She reached up into Odan’s sunlit hair, meaning to pull her in for another kiss, unable to do more than pant open-mouthed against her lips. She could think of nothing but the rhythm of Odan moving inside her, the maddening build and almost-break of pleasure, closer every time.

“Odan,” she sobbed, her hips rising to meet each wave- Odan’s fingers quickened in response, her breath now as ragged as Beverly’s, gasped against her collarbone as she looked down at her work. Beverly arched into it, the scent of Odan’s climax still on her lips, and it was as if every nerve in her body felt this-felt only this- as the sensation gathered inside her like a storm, low and heavy and strung tight with tension, and finally, finally-

She cried out at the sudden, sweet burst of pleasure, feeling herself tighten and release around Odan’s fingers. Odan’s head dropped heavy against her breast, and for a stunned moment they simply breathed, tangled in one another’s arms.

*

Beverly sat in her armchair with a cup of lemon tea, her bare feet resting on the bed where Odan lay half-covered, still sleeping. The beautiful, spare curve of her back moved gently with her breaths. A lock of hair slipped over her face, and for a moment Beverly was struck by a wave of affection so intense that she missed it terribly, even as it warmed her from head to toe. In that moment she knew that she loved Odan, perhaps more now than ever.

She also knew that she loved her job, her friends, her patients; puzzling over unknown alien physiologies, joining the away-team with a phaser in one hand and a tricorder in the other. She’d slogged through one year as Head of Starfleet Medical and hated every minute of it, stuck in an office with mountains of paperwork and the stars light-years above her.

No, she couldn’t live planet-side, and with the Trill reeling over this breach of their privacy, would they even allow her to? Odan certainly wouldn’t give up her official duties to live on Earth. Beverly had enough experience to patch Odan up in sickbay, but she was hardly a Trill surgeon. So, what would she be- an Ambassador’s wife? Even the thought made her feel restless. She loved Odan. She did. Was that enough?

Odan stirred, sighing as she brushed the hair from her face. When she looked at Beverly, she smiled sadly.

“Perhaps I have too much faith in my own ambassadorial charm- I thought I might be able to change your mind, but I see it is already elsewhere.”

Beverly smiled back.

“No, it was with you,” she rested her foot against Odan’s thigh. “Part of it will always be with you, I think. But my place is here.”

Odan looked at her for a long time.

“And mine is not,” she replied finally, sitting up as Beverly placed her tea on the nightstand and came to sit beside her.

"Odan,” Beverly took her hand. “I do love you. Please remember that."

Odan raised Beverly’s wrist to her lips, slowly, as if etching this moment into her memory- and pressed a last kiss below her palm.

"I will never forget you."

*

Beverly looked up, smiling to see Deanna carrying two extra-large chocolate sundaes from the bar. The spike of her anxiety was noticeable, but nowhere near as wild as it had been.

“Deanna-“ Beverly moved some empty glasses onto another table to make room as she sat. “How is he?”

“He’s fine,” Deanna slid her a spoon. “I told him, like you asked. He says it must have been a night to remember.”

Beverly laughed, rolling her eyes, and the jagged edges of her feelings smoothed a little more. 

“Thank you.” She poked aimlessly at the sundae for a few moments before looking sidelong at Deanna. “…He doesn’t, does he? Remember.”

There was something else, under the expected awkwardness. Deanna fixed her with her best counsellor’s blank stare.

“Would it be so much worse if he did?”

Beverly snorted.

“I wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction.” 

That made her laugh. Beverly cast her a wry smile- and there it was, the flicker of shame that had been burning at the back of her mind all this time. 

“Deanna-“

“I know,” Deanna reached out, taking her hand. For some reason it sent a flash of heat scouring up the back of Beverly’s neck, but she decided to file that one away for later.

“This has been just as hard for you as it has for me," Beverly persevered. "I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good friend.”

Deanna smiled, shaking her head.

“Given the circumstances, I think I can forgive you.” She pulled her chocolate sundae towards her, picking up a spoon. “Besides, you know there’s really very little to forgive.”

Beverly gave her hand a squeeze before scooping up a blob of ice cream.

“Deanna, he loves you-“

“I know,” Deanna cut in. “But he’s not ready. I’ve known that for a long time, too.” She swirled the fudge sauce thoughtfully around with her spoon. “Perhaps I’m not ready either.”

Beverly was quiet for a moment.

“People change, don't they...” she rested her chin against her hand. “How much can a person change before they become someone else entirely?"

The tug of longing was so familiar, Deanna suddenly found herself taken back to Will’s quarters, naked and alone. Not for the first time- or the last.

"I think... all of us, in our lifetimes, become many people,” she replied. “We carry the memories of each self with us, teaching the lessons we once learned, making the choices we once wish we'd made."

Beverly sighed, licking her spoon clean.

"Do you think my future self will wish I'd made a different choice?"

Deanna shook her head.

"I think you can only make the choice that is right for you at the time of making it-” She tapped Beverly’s sundae glass. “And when it comes to breakups, I've found that chocolate helps."

*

"Doctor, I hear we've been seeing a lot more of each other recently."

Beverly winced, turning just in time to see Will enter the turbolift behind her. The doors closed with a hiss, shutting out the bustling medical corridor.

"I, uh-“ she began, then faltered, wondering for the hundredth time what on earth it was appropriate to do or say in this kind of situation. “I thought it might be easier, hearing it from Deanna.” She forced herself to look up, into his eyes. “Will, I'm sorry-"

He waved her away, as if she'd stood on his foot or bumped into him in the corridor.

"As far as I'm concerned, I went under in Sickbay and the next moment I was awake in my quarters."

"Oh.” The fluttering in her stomach eased a little. “No... dreams, then?"

A strange expression ghosted across his face- her stomach dropped-

"I thought I might have seen Deanna...” he shook his head, and there it was, the brash smile she knew. “No, slept like a baby."

She sighed, hoping her relief wasn’t too evident.

"Have you been experiencing any after-effects from the transplant procedure?" She asked, but Will just shrugged.

"My joints are still aching, but Dr. Selar told me it's quite normal."

“That's good,” she nodded, then found herself fiddling aimlessly with the tricorder in her pocket. The turbolift was awfully slow today. “Truthfully, Will, you aren’t angry?” she blurted out. “You have every right to be.”

Will gave her a sidelong look, clearly amused now.

“Well, let’s see- an alien used me like a sock-puppet and almost shot my immune system to hell in the process... I think of all the things I could be angry about, sharing my bed with a beautiful woman falls pretty far down the list.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, it was so typical of Will- so normal. That was good. She was just about to launch into a story Wesley had told her about his exams when Will turned to her, suddenly looking as awkward as she felt.

“Beverly- I couldn’t tell you how, but I know- I know that this Odan loved you. Very much.”

For a moment, the clench of her heart felt so tight she could barely breathe. But it passed. It would all pass. She thought of Deanna- of the looks Will gave her sometimes when she wasn’t looking.

“If only love were enough,” she replied. As he opened his mouth to say something more, the lift stopped. He smiled ruefully.

“If only.”

They stepped out onto the Bridge. 


End file.
